'Mostly,' Vesna admitted. 'When I was knighted I was given land, of course, but it's not worth enough to pay more than a third oi thi debt. Perhaps I should give trade a go, now I feel too old lor battle.'

'Nonsense,' Tila said. 'There's no one in the tribe Lord Isak trusts more than you; the sensible money's on him appointing you as General Elierl's replacement in Lomin. There's no duke there, so the eastern border needs an experienced commander more than ever.'

'Hut what if that's not what I want?' Vesna asked sadly. 'What if my nerve's gone, and all I've left is an unsavoury reputation, and not even a child to pass my weapons on to?'

'But that's not true,' Tila insisted fiercely. 'Your nerve isn't gone or you wouldn't have made it here; you'd have died outside lor Milist, Doubting yourself is only human, but 1 know you'd not even pause to think before stepping between danger and your lord – and while we're on the subject, do you think Lord Isak has never doubted himself? He's only a little older than I am and he grew up on a wagon-train, yet we now expect him to make decisions that affect nations! Suzerains, dukes and high priests defer to him on theology and prophecy; Isak must be horrified at the life he's found himself living.' Her voice softened. 'He'll need you to understand a sane man's doubts, otherwise you'll not be there when he no longer knows which way to turn.'

They heard footsteps ascending the stairs from the unused study below and turned to see Major Jachen's face bobbing up into view. Isak's Commander of Guards always looked sheepish when he was forced to disturb them. Clearly he'd come straight from his bed and hadn't passed a mirror on the way, for his hair was plastered down over his scalp on one side and sticking up on the other. He wore a loose linen shirt and, bizarrely, despite the hot weather, a Chetse warrior's kilt.

It was the first time Vesna had ever seen a Farlan in Chetse dress. It had clearly been made for Jachen, for he was taller than most Chetse and the kilt still reached his scarred knees – yet another sign of how far Jachen had gone to evade his past?

Vesna smiled inwardly and breathed in the faint aroma of Tila's skin. He had been forgiven his own reputation once he joined Isak's inner circle; perhaps redemption was also within Jachen's reach.

'Count Vesna, Lady Tila; Lord Isak requests your presence.' Jachen sounded awkward, as though the formality of his position still did not come easily to him. 'We have a visitor,' he added, 'a woman, appar¬ently one of the Chief Steward's agents.'

Vesna hauled himself to his feet and offered a hand to Tila.

'Major, have you managed much sleep recently?' he asked suddenly. Jachen's reddened eyes and sickly complexion made him look like he'd spent the last two days drinking. 'For a man who's just woken up, you don't look very well rested.'

'I find it hard to sleep in this heat, and my head's been aching ever since we arrived here,' he admitted.

'Surely you're used to the heat?' Vesna pointed at the kilt; the Chetse lived far to the south and much of their territory was little more than desert. Jachen must have served there to get into the habit of wearing a warrior's kilt.

'This heat's not natural,' Jachen said, 'but you're right, it shouldn't be enough to stop me sleeping. Feels like there's something in the air, like a song just out of hearing. I'll be glad to see the back of this city.'

'How about your dreams?'

A hunted look flashed over Jachen's face. 'What about them?'

'You don't look like you've been having normal dreams recently.'

The commander lowered his eyes and said quietly, 'Recently? Not lor years now.' He coughed and turned to leave. 'Lord Isak is waiting downstairs.'

'We're coming, but… Commander?' Jachen stopped and Vesna caught up with him and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. 'Get properly dressed first. You're not a mercenary any longer.'

There was a sparkle of defiance in Jachen's eye, quickly checked. He nodded, and excused himself.

The open reception room that served as the heart of the house was ringed by enough pillars for a temple to Nartis. There was a mezzanine balcony, and above, it was open to the sky. Lord Isak circled a young woman, who was sitting comfortably on a cushion, watching her lord. Gone were the trappings of state and title; instead, Lord Isak, clad in a loose sleeveless shirt and cropped breeches, looked more like the suspicious, bare-footed youth he had been a year ago. Only the sheathed sword that he kept switching from one hand to the other and the whitened skin of his left arm that bore the kiss of a hundred searing lightning bolts marked him as someone different.

Two of Isak's guards stood at the main door, armed with the shofl handled glaives favoured by the Ghosts of Tirah. On the balcony Sir Kelet prowled, his beautiful silver-inlaid bow at the ready. Perched on the edge of the balcony, her bare toes hanging over the empty space below, was Shinir, Lesarl's sour-faced agent. She was balancing her sickle-like khopesh, a brutal single-edged weapon, on her finger, and her long chain-link flail was draped around her shoulders. She never bothered hiding her dislike of Vesna, but he ignored her as he passed. Shinir could be a useful asset, but she was unstable, too close to being a Raylin for his liking. He knew that if he did get into an argument with her, he'd have to be ready to end it.

In contrast to Lord Isak, who fidgeted like a boy before his In.1 battle, the young woman sitting cross-legged in the centre ol the room was still and calm. Her hair was tinted red, like one ol the While

Circle, but she was undoubtedly a pure-blood Farlan.

Vesna felt a jolt as he realised he'd met her before… it took him a moment to place that beautiful face, then he had it: she'd been at a meeting in Lord Bahl's tent, after the battle of the Chir Plains. She'd been standing silently at the side and he had dismissed her as an assassin. It looked like she was rather more than that.

'Vesna, Tila, this is Legana,' Lord Isak announced. 'She is here to infiltrate the White Circle. Lesarl's orders.' He gave a sour laugh. 'And although we've discovered their plans the hard way, she's unearthed even darker secrets.'

'My Lord?' Vesna stopped. There was obviously more to Isak's agi¬tated state than just the sweltering nights and the magic unleashed throughout the city the previous night.

'The death of Lord Bahl, or so she claims.' Isak finally settled, lean¬ing back against the pillar in front of Legana.

'My Lord, I thought you would want to hear that part of my report first,' Legana said.

Vesna thought he detected a slight northern drawl. 'First the con¬text,' he said. 'I want to know how you have heard such things; how such secrets were brought into the open.'

Legana bobbed her head, a wisp of rusty hair falling across her face. 'Mistress Siala assigned me as an aide to Mistress Ostia – the name assumed here by the vampire Zhia Vukotic, as you know; Siala remains ignorant of her true identity. The night before last, Mistress Ostia – Zhia – captured the necromancer's associates during the assault on his house. One was his assistant, who told us that his master was Menin by birth, and had been trained in his arts by Lord Salen himself. He was sent west to stir up trouble in these parts, and became acquainted with Cordein Malich, later becoming his apprentice.'

'Malich?' Vesna gasped. 'The Menin have been planning their invasion for that long?'

'But how did this necromancer's apprentice bring about Lord Bahl's death?' Isak interjected.

'Did Lord Bahl ever mention his dreams?'

'Not that I remember. Why is that important?'

'Because they used his dreams, his memories of his lost love, against him. Lord Styrax has been planning this invasion for years – how else could anyone have brought an army across the Waste intact? The one thing he had not anticipated is you, Lord Isak.'